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Things I Don’t Get: Toothpaste Shrapnel on the Bathroom Mirror

Seriously, what is up with my husband's tooth-brushing technique?

As much as I hate to be all, "Don't get me started about men..." or "The thing about men is..." I have to say, my husband has the ability to filthify (new word, get into it) a bathroom mirror in a matter of seconds. Seconds, I tell you! In our Brooklyn apartment, we share a bathroom. We also share a bedroom, an office, a kitchen, etc., because it is all one -- one tiny room. Stooodeeeoh liiiiiiving! Sing it with me, won't you? So the bathroom is where you go to get away from the other person. But even it is so tiny that you can't really make your time there into a big thing. Suffice it to say, no one has ever uttered the word spa-like within its walls. Still, I do my best to keep it clean and presentable.

So seriously, I was in there a mere 10 minutes ago, and everything was fine. Just walked back in there on my way out the door and oh my god WHY? The mirror is covered with white sprinkles and a few not-so-white chunks of unidentified matter. I don't mean there were three dots of crud on the mirror and I'm just having a little writer's embellishment moment -- I mean that I couldn't really see myself. It was, as they say, an obstructed view. But how? What the hell is going on with his oral hygiene routine? It's not like he has giant beaver teeth that he back-brushes while singing opera.

Sigh. Do. Not. Get.

So make me feel better -- what does your spouse do that's super-messy/gross?

-- Holly

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